Into the Unknown
by thenomadicgypsy
Summary: Slight AU. With her memories gone, a young girl is lost among the people of Middle Earth and placed in the care of Eomer, nephew to the King. But times are dark and trust is hard earned as she struggles to remember not only who she is but also to correct the ever changing tide of fate. Can she save Middle Earth and herself before it is too late and the ring is lost forever? MILDAU
1. Of Wizards and Men

_"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times,_

_if one only remembers to turn on the light."_

_-Dumbledore_

* * *

**{001}**

There wasn't much that she could remember anymore. Everything had become rather hazy as her time in the dank dungeons of Isengard had somehow washed away her memories like waves washing away a sandcastle on the beach. Some things remained; the memory of her mother's smile and her father's laugh. These were things she had engraved into her mind every year since their death. She was still wondering how she had managed to land herself in such a position but the more she thought on her circumstance the harder it was to recall.

Freya didn't need a crystal ball to tell her how her future looked because she knew that it would be grim. It hadn't taken her long to realize the bizarre situation in which she found herself was not a dream nor a drug induced hallucination as she would have liked it to be; she was truly where no one would have every thought it possible to be. A world that was not her own.

The wizard was easily recognizable by his long grey hair and silver robes. His was a deep voice that resonated with authority off the marble walls of the darkened fortress of Isengard; a place that had once held beauty. Freya knew herself to be in Middle Earth; a fictional world that was part of a fictional story-or so she had thought. However, no matter how hard she tried to conjure the memories of this fictional world there was nothing to be found. Bits and pieces came to her when needed, unbidden, such as names of people and places but as for the story as a whole…there was nothing.

Night and day had become almost indistinguishable from one another. Her hovel had no window to speak of so she had taken to scratching lines on the walls each time she heard the heavy Counting the days seemed to be useless for the most part but each time she heard the heavy footsteps of the Orcs who came to collect her. Today was day one hundred.

Freya's body groaned in protest as she lifted herself up from the cold ground, brushing the dirt from her backside. Not that this it mattered; her captor paid no attention to her highly disheveled and remarkably foul odor. He cared about one thing and one thing only; information. She assumed it was for how the story would play out in the end. Whether he would be triumphant in his quest for—she couldn't remember that part. Each day he searched through her memories and every time he did, she lost more and more of who she was.

At first it was small things like the name of her first dog or the color of the house she grew up in. However, the more he searched for information the more blank her mind seem to become. Freya could no longer remember the names of her family, only faces. Things such as her favorite color and music had long faded and now, she was left with not much more than her name. Sometimes she cried in her sleep at night; missing the people whose faces haunted her mind and whose names she could no longer recall.

Heavy footsteps could be heard clunking their way down the small passageway to her hovel. It was time again. Freya was weak on her feet, but she managed to draw back her shoulders and hold her chin up high in defiance as the two Orcs dragged her out the door to their master. She had memorized the passage, having walked it so much, and each turn that drew them closer to the wizard made her sick to her stomach with unease. At first, he had been gentle while shifting through her memories and had treated as if she was an honored guest. However, the more frustrated he became at not being able to find what he had been searching for led to difficulties for her.

For a hundred days she had been tortured, beaten, and broken but instead of making her into a meek and quiet lamb; he had created a wolf. In the depths of her forgotten memories there was still one thing she knew about herself and that was that she never backed down. She was a fighter and that would never change no matter how many things he took from her.

"Where are we going?" Freya barely recognized her own voice anymore; it had become deep and raspy over the course of her stay. She looked around at the passageway not recognizing it as one that she knew. The Orcs beside her stayed silent as they hauled her up a spiraling staircase towards the uppermost part of the fortress. Fear flashed in her eyes as she wondered if this was it…if this was the end of her life. The height of Isengard was unmatched by any building she could ever recall from her world and being thrown from it was a sure death sentence.

Freya jerked her arms with every ounce of power she had within her, pulling herself backwards against the Orcs forward movements but her strength had long been depleted. They said nothing, merely held tighter to her upper arms, lifting her in the air just enough so that her feet could not connect with the ground. She continued to squirm but there was nothing now that she could do to prevent her fate.

The marble of the roof painted her body black and blue when she landed unceremoniously on the floor after being hurled through an open door at the Wizard's feet. A cold hand yanked her to her feet before she could regain her composure and she found herself once again face to face with the silver wizard whose name she knew as Saruman. Freya hadn't told him she knew his name, and never once had she uttered it aloud, for he had never told her his name, she had simply known it upon looking at him for the very first time.

"What have you done, Saruman?" Freya tried to turn to face the deep gravelly voice of an unfamiliar presence that spoke from behind her, but her body refused to move. There were notes of exhaustion and pain as the voice continued to speak and Freya felt as if she somehow recognized it from somewhere. Her mind, however, could not conjure up the memory.

"I have performed magic beyond what anyone believed to be capable," Saruman boasted with pride. "From her I will learn all things and with that knowledge Sauron will conquer the Middle Earth and regain his power." Freya's body stiffened involuntarily as a lidless eye wreathed in flames appeared in her vision. Yet, as soon as it had appeared it was also gone. Saruman noticed the change in her behavior and smiled. "Watch, my friend, as I take the last of her memories. She is the beacon of darkness that will shadow the kingdoms of Middle Earth until they fall one by one."

Her knees hit the floor, pain lancing through them. Freya closed her eyes against the onslaught of agony that was yet to come. With his palm against her forehead he began to utter the low chant that precipitated his invasive attack on her mind. Her eyes flew open at once, heart beating erratically. From her mouth emerged a sound of anguish so terror-filled and nightmarish that it could have not possibly been hers. It was a blood-curdling scream that chilled the watching wizard to the bone.

Freya was gasping for breath, groping blindly in front of her for something to hold onto, sweating profusely. In horror she watched as one by one more of her memories disappeared from their precious holding place into the mind of Saruman. The tears were running freely now in small rivers down her dirt marred face. Soon it felt as if she would even lose her name and what use would she be then.

A small voice rang in her mind and the flow of tears ceased; leaving only silent hiccups in their wake. Freya snuck a peek at Saruman whose eyes were closed and mouth still moving his chant. He seemed unaware that anyone had spoken. _Freya. _ The voice spoke again, louder now, and it was then that she realized the voice was in her own mind.

_He cannot hear me, my dear,_ the voice continued to speak; deep and gravelly. Freya recognized it as the voice of Gandalf, the grey clad wizard. _It is time for you to leave now and I need you to trust me. _Freya shook her head in her mind; paralyzed with fear. How was she to escape under the thumb of such magic. Where would she go? She could barely remember her own name now let alone how to survive in an unknown land. She would be as good as dead.

_You will be dead if you do not leave now_, his voice was hard but reassuring and she knew he was right.

_What do I do then, wizard? _She asked. _Jump? _She could feel his smile.

_Exactly. _Freya shifted beneath Saruman's hand. If she was going to do this, she would need to do it now before she lost everything. She closed her eyes against the pain, shutting them tight as she readied herself to make her move. _Go! _

There was no hesitation as she brought her hand up to twist Saruman's palm away from her head. Taken by surprise, the wizard lost his concentration, effectively ending his spell. Freya rolled away and onto her feet making a mad dash for the edge of the fortress. Behind her she could hear Saruman's scream of rage, but she didn't have time to worry about that now.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she launched herself off the edge and into the air. The raging wind around her suppressed the scream that she was sure was emerging from the depths of her diaphragm. Terror flashed across her face as the ground approached and for an instant; she thought that the wizard had failed her. Freya drew her arms up to protect her face as she prepared to hit the dusty terrain of Isengard but instead there was nothing but darkness...

* * *

**What are your thought?**


	2. Of Rescue and Escape

_"She will rise. With a spine of steel, and a roar like thunder, she will rise."_

_-Nicole Lyons_

* * *

{002}

Freya groaned in discomfort, her eyes fluttering open, and her body racked with shivers as she slowly came to consciousness. The ground beneath her was wet and cold. Taking a moment to breathe; Freya ran her fingers through the soft grass in relief. Curious, she raised her head to gaze at her new surroundings, her eyes adjusting to the darkness around her.

The light of the full moon revealed rolling hills around her; Isengard was nowhere to be seen. A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she realized her luck and after a moment the laugh turned to sobs. Freya wasn't sure how long she sat there with her knees to her chest sobbing but it seemed as if a lifetime. At the sound of thunderous horse hooves coming from somewhere in the distance, her crying abruptly ceased.

Freya went to stand but her legs folded beneath her weight as if they were made of syrup. Fear enveloped her as raised voices and torches loomed towards her. Clawing at the dirt, she drew herself towards the taller grass in which she could hide, but within moments she was surrounded by horses with nowhere to escape to. It seemed as if her heart had stopped and her breathing ceased as she looked up to find herself in the center of long sharp spears and harsh voices. From her position on the ground the men above her looked as if they were giants. They sat erect on their shadowed steeds whispering in hushed tones.

One of the horses pitched forward, spear pointed at her neck, uttering words Freya could not comprehend. When she did not answer he jutted the spear at her throat menacingly and repeated his earlier phrase. Freya's lower jaw quivered in fear as she struggled to find her voice.

"I don't understand what you are saying," she whispered, her voice hoarse. The riders straightened in surprise at her voice. The rider with the spear at her throat whispered with another rider beside him who nodded in response. The spear withdrew from her neck in exchange for a torch as the rider dismounted his large white horse to get a better look at her.

Freya cowered in fear as he approached her and wanted nothing more than to crawl away as far as she could get. Even in the dim torchlight she could sense the potent strength of the one who approached her. He stood tall against the backdrop of the night; long golden hair hidden behind a silver helmet. His armor conjured up a picture in her head that she could not place. A picture of thousands of men behind a white staffed man upon a mountain side flickered before her eyes before it was gone once again. Another memory she had lost.

He dragged the torch up and down the length of her body; his expression unreadable beneath knitted brows and a bearded face. He quickly removed his helmet so that he could see more clearly the woman before him. A small gasp of recognition escaped unbidden from Freya's lips.

"Eomer…" she whispered loud enough for only the rider and herself to hear. A scowl marred the rider's face as he grabbed hold of her arm with the hand that once held his helmet. Freya winced at the pain his fingers were causing as he wrenched her up from the ground. She strove to get her feet to hold her up but each time she put her weight on them they would collapse beneath her. He sat her back down on the ground, quickly binding her wrists with a rope he had stored about his hop, wrenching the knot down to make sure she would not escape.

The one she had identified as Eomer then handed her off to another who had dismounted his horse while he gracefully mounted his white steed and motioned for the other rider to hand her up to him. Freya struggled against the man's grip as he lifted her up towards Eomer's awaiting arms, a scream billowing from her lips as she fought to keep herself from becoming someone else's captive. She kicked her legs out and swung her tied arms wildly refusing to go without a fight. Eomer's jaw tightened in frustration as her bound hands nearly connected with his face. Swiftly, he brought the hilt of his knife down on her head and then there was nothing…

* * *

The smell of leather and sweat greeted her as she woke with a start. Hoof beats echoed around her and the jostling of a horse's trot shook beneath her. Freya groaned in pain at the knot in the back in of her head that was pulsating, creating a headache that was almost overwhelming. She went to rub the affected area but realized that her wrists were still bound in front of her.

Curiosity got the better of her and she looked in awe at her surroundings as the dawn began to rise. They had ridden through the night away from the sloping hills and towards the darkness of the forest. Back towards the blackness of Isengard. _Surely, they did not mean to return her there? _Freya's eyes swam with tears at the thought of being returned to Saruman.

"You're awake." Freya could feel Eomer's deep voice rumble through where her back met his chest. She sat astride the great white horse, her wrists bound in front of her, with her captor holding the reigns on either side. "Good. Soon you will talk and if you lie to me, I will slit your throat." Terror overtook her face at the thought of her throat being slit and then left for dead in the middle of a grassy wasteland where the animals would feast on her carcass.

Freya attempted to keep a straight face as they continued to gallop over the countryside until the sun rose high and it was time to make camp. They weren't situated far from the forest; just far enough to stay out the shadows of its trees. Eomer gave out orders to his men as he dismounted his horse with a quick gracefulness. He reached his arms out towards her, expecting her to thankfully lean towards them, but instead was met with fierce resistance. The Marshall of the Riddermark rolled his eyes in frustration as he dragged her down off his horse as if she were a child and sat her down on a tree stump where he could keep an eye on her.

She watched in utter fascination as the camp came together with a skillful quickness that only those who spent their lives roaming the land could accomplish with such ease. Eomer examined his captive from a distance as he assisted one of the men with building up a fire. She sat quietly on the stump, bound hands in her lap, slowly taking in everything around her. Ivory skin was caked in mud and dirt, marring any beauty she held beneath it. Eomer could have sworn the color of her hair beneath the muck and grime was whiter than even that of his sister Eowyn's.

Although the girl had only spoken but a sentence to him in the Common Tongue, the accent was strange, and the oddness of her clothes irritated him. Never had Eomer seen a woman wear trousers that clung so much to their figure nor a shirt that did not even hide her shoulders. It was evident that she was malnourished. Although she more than likely held a lithe figure when properly nourished, the haunted look of her cheekbones and curvature of her body told him she had once been more robust.

When the fire had been lit and their meal was simmering away in the pot, Eomer strode over to the girl who was still watching them with a mix of confusion, fear, and overt curiosity. It was as if she had never seen men such as them before. Freya watched as her new captor sat down on the tree stump just opposite of her, eyeing him suspiciously. She had felt his eyes on her while he had been helping his men about their camp and knew that he was assessing her. The same way Saruman had.

"What is your name?" He asked, his voice deep and rough, showing no touches of kindness. He had not the time for kindness today. Freya looked at him for a moment, her emerald eyes clashing with his brown ones.

"Freya," she whispered, her voice still hoarse from current events.

"That is all?" He asked her his mouth set in a hard line. "Just Freya?"

"That is all I know," she answered honestly, biting her lower lip in shame.

"What is your business in Rohan?" Freya remained silent unsure of how to answer. The truth was that she had no business in…Rohan…had he called it? She hadn't even known that was where she landed but the name of the country called up images, just as his name had. Somehow, she recognized it, as if it had been hidden in the depths of her mind. Images of horses, farmers, and open land barraged her vision one after another after another. Freya felt almost as if her mind was being torn open again by Saruman, the images refusing to relent, repeating over and over.

Freya cried out as rough hands painfully seized either side of her head, dragging her from trance. Her vision cleared and he there was, Eomer, brown eyes hard with anger and lips pressed thinly in frustration, his face only inches from hers. Freya, startled, tried to look away from his deepening scowl. He held tight, his fingers on the back of her neck tightening as she tried to pull away.

"I ask you again, girl," He growled in irritation. "What is your business in Rohan? And let me remind you of what I informed you of earlier. If you lie-I will slit your throat." Freya's heart began to pound as she looked at the man before her whose hands alone could end her life at a moment's notice. But Freya did not escape the dungeons of Saruman to become yet another prisoner. She wasn't entirely sure what she had planned on doing; or where she had planned on going had she gotten away, but before she could even think about her actions Freya had headbutted the Marshall of the Riddermark in the nose.

Eomer let out a Rohirric curse, taken by surprise at the girl's action, and stumbled backwards. Freya took advantage of his shock and leapt to her feet, making a mad dash towards the forest's edge. Beneath her, her legs still felt as if they were made of jelly, pins and needles shot up through them as she tried to stay on her feet. She didn't hear any horse hooves or raised voices of anger behind her; praying that meant they were going to let her go. That she was too much of an inconvenience to deal with. She made her way into the tall grass, trying to keep up her quick pace, but her legs were beginning to fail again after so much disuse.

Freya groaned in pain as her foot collided with a hidden obstacle, the hard ground coming up to meet her. She landed on her bound hands, the force of the fall knocking the wind from her lungs. She simply lay there, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, attempting to refill the air in which she had lost.

"GIRL!"

A quick glance behind her told her that Eomer was not far behind, his face contorted with anger, clenched fists at his side as he stalked towards her. Once again Freya found herself clawing at the ground to get away, but he was upon her before she had a chance to move. She kicked her feet out at him, trying to maintain a distance between them, but it was no use. Eomer dodged a blow from her right leg, grabbing a hold of her ankle as it came at him, and twisted her until she lay on her back.

Kneeling on top of her, he trapped her between his legs, the weight of his body preventing her from moving. He had to admit that she had fight in her. Even caught and without the use of her legs, Freya screamed and fought with every ounce of strength she had.

"Cease this devilry," He commanded, his voice harsh and demanding. Freya beat her still bound hands against his chest, bucking her hips up to try and maneuver out of his hold but it was useless. Her pitiful attempts to hurt him had no effect on his well-muscled body, even without armor, and the more she bucked her hips to get loose the more weight he applied down on her.

"I said cease!" His voice echoed with a barely controlled rage that caused Freya to still in fear. "Are you so eager to get back to your master Saruman that you would risk your life in the woods?" Freya's eyes darkened at the mention of Saruman's name.

"I will never go back to Saruman," She hissed at him, her fear subsiding as rage replaced it. "Nor will I let someone drag me to him. I would rather die before returning to that monster." Eomer raised an eyebrow at her, suspicion rising. This is not what he had been expecting. There had been talk about her amongst the Orc's they had slew yesterday prior to riding upon their new mysterious guest. Talk that had made it seem as if she was an ally of Saruman and one that he coveted most dearly.

"If you are no friend to Saruman then why do you run from me?" He asked, his anger slightly allayed as he looked at how truly frightened she had been upon mentioning her return to the Wizard. "Why do you not give me the answers I seek? How did you know my name?"

"Because I honestly do not know the answers!"


	3. Of Men and Beauty

_She's changed. You can see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch, and hear it in her tone. She's not the same, and she's never coming back._

_-K. Azizian_

**{003}**

Freya gave an aggravated sigh at her current predicament. Although Eomer had not pushed her any farther past her confession of truly not knowing anything she sensed that he was still angry and had every intention of finding out what she did know. At the moment, however, her aggravation was at the fact that Eomer had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to carry her back to camp instead of having her walk. She hit his back with her bound hands demanding that he put her down to walk but he merely ignored her complaints and kept onward. It was almost nightfall by the time they returned to camp. Freya's stomach gurgled in revolt at the smell of roasted vegetables.

"Well caught, M'lord," one of the riders grinned at his Marshall while the others agreed with full mouths of stew. Eomer shook his head with a small smile and set the girl down on one of the bedrolls near his own. He tied a long rope to her ankle, which he attached to the post that held his horse and undid the rope about her hands.

Freya rubbed at her raw wrists, thankful to be rid of the ropes. Eomer shoved a bowl of soup in her hands instructing her to eat and then left her alone to join his men by the fireside. Freya let the warmth of bowl seep through her hands to the rest of her body; a comfort she had not had in some time. Greedily, she slurped down the soup until nothing remained, wishing there was more.

She lay back on the bedroll and looked at the night sky above her. Even in the shadow of the trees the stars were clear and easy to see. She tried to conjure up a vision of the stars from her world; were they the same as they were here in Middle Earth?

There was nothing. Her mind was blank and with a sudden surge of sadness Freya let out a choked sob before finally rolling over to silently cry herself to sleep as she had done so many nights before.

Eomer watched her from the firelight as his men one by one readied themselves for their first night of real sleep. Over the past week they had been sleeping in the afternoons as they tracked the sudden surge of Orc packs through the night. Sleep was never truly the same when the sun was risen.

In her current form she did not look as if she was an asset to Saruman. The only thing that she looked like was a scared girl who had been torn down. But rarely did Orc's lie when threatened, even under the threat of death. He had seen the defiance in her eyes and there was no mistaking the acid in her words when she told him she would never return to Isengard; Eomer could not deny what he saw. But spies were everywhere, even in the halls of Meduseld, and Eomer could not afford to let one slip passed him as he had already done.

"What is on your mind, Milord?" Eothain, Eomer's Captain and long-time friend sat down next to him, handing him a cup of ale. Eomer merely shrugged.

"You have known me long enough, my friend, to drop the formalities," He chastised as he gulped down the ale. Eothain smirked.

"Tis true," He admitted taking a swig of his own ale. "But you are avoiding the question. What is on you mind, friend?" Eomer glanced back at the girl and Eothain already knew where his friend's head was at.

'Do you think her a spy?" He asked sincerely but Eomer could only shrug. No one would believe her to by a spy, at least not an adequate one, but what other choice did he have other than to assume she was. The girl offered no answers to his questions and fought them at every turn.

"Wouldn't you if you were suddenly taken by a group of riders with no explanation?" Eomer looked up at his Captain. He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud.

"We offered her no explanations as to why we took her," Eothain continued, reading his friend's mind. "Is it unreasonable that she wouldn't want to give us answers if she thinks that, we too, are the enemy?" Eomer shook his head in disbelief.

"When did you become such a man of wisdom?" He jabbed at Eothain. "Here I thought your mind was full of nothing but pretty girls and ale." Eothain smiled wide at Eomer's teasing.

"It is," He laughed. "But you never have any real wisdom so I thought I should learn some in case we ever needed it." The two friends laughed together as brothers and continued to enjoy each other's company through the night but Eomer's thoughts were still on the girl and what needed to be done.

* * *

_Nightmares plagued her sleep, her breathing shallow and rapid, causing her to toss and turn. Small whimpers escaped her lips, whispered begging and pleading, but nothing stopped the onslaught of agony that tore through her body. She was back at the dark tower, eyes squeezed shut in terror as the Orc's around her jibbed and laughed at her misfortune. Once again Freya had failed to give Saruman what he wanted and now, beneath the sing of a whip, she would suffer the consequences. She sat on her knees, back exposed, head buried beneath her hands as one lash came after another. The room echoed with their laughs and all she did was sob as she begged for them to stop. But relief never came…_

Freya bolted up in terror as she suppressed a strangled cry. Sweat covered her from head to toe, tears rolled down her face unbidden, and her heart thundered as though it would burst from her chest. She looked around, the cold night air against her sweat covered body causing her to shiver. Isengard was nowhere to be seen. Freya sighed in relief but a part of her still felt trapped.

It was still dark out. The sun was barely peeking out over the hills, but the camp was once again alive. The Riders of the Rohirrim stirred from their bedrolls and began their morning activities. Eomer sat with some of his comrades laughing around the still burning fire. Freya tugged at the rope around her ankle wondering if the length of it would stretch to a private enough place to relieve her full bladder.

"I wouldn't even attempt to remove that," A rather cheerful voice stated from above her. "Eomer is a master of knots." Freya looked up sheepishly, her hand still clutching the rope. The man above her was stockier than his commander who appeared leaner but had the same golden hair and beard.

"I just need to…" she blushed. "Relieve myself." The man's laughter was deep hardy as he bent down to unbind her leg. Freya cringed when he went to reach for her, but his reassuring smile kept her from moving away from his touch.

"Why did you not just say so?" He smiled at her as he helped her up from the ground and led her over towards the tall grass.

Eothain waited while the girl took care of her business, not the slight bit concerned that she might try to run without her ropes on. Eomer had always been distrustful of anyone that was not from Rohan but Eothain believed in allowing people the chance to show they are trustworthy before condemning them.

Despite earlier impressions, the girl was rather quiet now, but her eyes were lit up with curiosity. Eothain watched as she silently took in everything around her as if seeing it for the first time. As much as she was curious about them, they were curious about her. As they walked through camp the riders snuck peeks at her from behind their duties wondering at her strange garb and how she had come to be in the middle of nowhere. Ignoring Eomer's incredulous gaze at the girl's unbound hands; Eothain led the girl towards a small stream not far from the camp.

"You can wash here," He informed her smiling. "We do not have any spare clothes that will fit you so you will have to wear the ones you have on now, but there is soap and wool for you by the streams edge." Freya looked at him in amazement and gratitude a smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," there was true gratefulness in her tone. Freya stood at the streams edge, wondering how cold it was, the resulting shiver from her foot hitting the water told her just what she wanted to know. It was definitely cold.

"Don't be a priss about it," Eothain informed her from his position up the bank. "Clean is clean. You don't have to take all day, just in and out." Freya turned to face the giant man; hands on her hip in discontent.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time?" She asked him fiercely, appalled by the idea. Eothain smiled and turned his back to the young girl. That was his answer. Freya let out a frustrated sigh as she hastily removed her clothing, a keen eye on the captain.

It wasn't as easy as she thought it would be; getting out of her clothes. She had to practically peel it off from her skin. Freya took a tentative step into the stream, her entire body trembling at the acute onset of the freezing temperature. Quickly, she dipped down until she was fully submerged. The quiet of the water surrounding her was peaceful, the only sound was the sound of the water flowing passed her ears.

When she resurfaced, she took a moment to dredge her fingers through her hair to undo as much of the matting and knotting as she could before attending to the rest of her body. Within minutes she was shaking and shivering with cold, her lips no doubt turning an icy shade of blue. Freya eyed the Captain again, who was busy whittling a stick with his back to her, before hastily exiting the water to dry herself with the wool.

"Feels nice does it not?" the Captain asked her cheerfully his back still turned.

"Yes," she admitted as she dried herself. "Thank you." The Captain shrugged nonchalantly.

"We still have several days before we reach Aldberg," he stated. "It would a mighty shame if you stank like a pig the entire ride." Freya rolled her eyes but didn't answer.

"Can I ask you something?" Eothain asked hesitantly, turning around. Freya had finished dressing and was currently running the wool through her hair trying to get it to dry. She stopped for a moment and looked at him as if already aware of what he was going to ask. There was a pregnant pause as Eothain's eyes widened in surprise at the how clean the girl was. There was no mistaking her beauty. Bold, light eyes were made brighter by fair skin and framed by hair whiter than snow, if such a thing was possible. In a proper dress one would mistake her for an Elf from distance.

"You want to know why Saruman is looking for me?"

Eothain flushed as he nodded at the girl, ashamed he had been caught balking at her appearance. Freya took a deep breath before sitting down on a fallen log to pull on her shoes. How did she tell him that there was little she knew about why Saruman had taken her and what he had wanted? All she had was bits and pieces of largely unknown story and none of the pieces she had seemed to fit together.

"What I told Eomer was the truth," She stated plainly, deciding to simply be open. Being vague and running sure hadn't gotten her anywhere, except humiliation. "I don't remember much, to be honest. I do remember being happy…and then there was nothing for a while. Saruman was looking for something in my memories and every time he searched, I lost bits and pieces of …well…everything."

"Everything?" Eomer questioned astonished as he sat down next to her, handing her a small load of cake. He saw no lie in her voice and heard nothing in her voice that would suggest subterfuge. "What about your home? Your family?"

Freya shook her head; eyes brimming with tears, as she slowly picked apart her food.

"I see faces but I can't remember their names," She told him sadly. "I can hear noises of my home but beyond that there is nothing. Sometimes I will have…flashes…moments that will flash before my eyes as if trying to reconnect with me, but those moments usually do not last long."

Eothain wanted to ask her more but he could hear the sound of the men beginning to mount up and knew it was time to go. Gently, he helped her to her feet and lead her back to camp where Eomer waited for her; ropes in hand. Just as his friend hand, Eomer stopped to stare at the girl before him whose beauty surprised him. He wasn't the only one to notice the change to her appearance. Many of the riders whispered to each other in Rohirric at her fine complexion but it was her unseemly hair color that caught their attention the most. Eomer cleared his throat as he stepped towards the girl, motioning for her to put her arms out.

Freya let out a deep sigh as she held up her hands and Eothain could see her bottom lip tremble as Eomer applied the ropes to her wrist. He wondered what kind of torture she must have endured to have such a reaction to simple rope bound about the wrist. Eothain knew that Eomer was being polite because she was a woman; he had seen him tie men up far worse.

Eomer mounted his horse without saying a word, giving his Captain a steely gaze, as he signaled for the girl. Eothain grasped the girl about her waist and lifted her to Eomer who planted her in front of him as if she were no more than a doll.

"Lay your head back," Eomer grunted at her as they rode. Freya looked up at him confused. Eomer sighed. "It is still early, and we have a long ride before we make camp again. Lay your head back against me and sleep for a while."

She looked up at him with overt suspicion at his sudden consideration for her.

"No harm will come to you, I promise," He swore, not taking his eyes off the horizon ahead. "You did not sleep well last night, and you were already exhausted. I do not need you feinting from fatigue. Rohan is a dangerous place and we all must be at our best."

Freya bit back a retort and nodded her head. Eomer spoke the truth. She knew she was exhausted and the cold water, however invigorating, didn't seem to have much affect at keeping her awake. Freya did as she was told and laid her head back against his chest, closing her eyes. A warmth wrapped around her as they rode, and she realized later that Eomer had taken his cloaked and wrapped it around her for warmth. Within minutes she was back to the peaceful oblivion that was sleep…

* * *

**So...thoughts anyone...**

**Thank you to Reishna for your reviews! Love them and I hope you like this chapter as well..**


	4. Of Horse Lords and Nightmares

**I am so sorry that it took so long to upload! My computer finally cracked under all the pressure and I have been waiting for a new one...okay, waiting to afford a new one! Here it is. It is short but I promise I will be on a new regular basis! Thank you to everyone for the reviews and the follows! **

**{004}**

Her sleep was dreamless this time, the warmth of Eomer's cloak keeping her enveloped in a peaceful state. It felt as if they had been riding for days and soon Freya began to grow restless at the bouncing of the horse and the inability to stretch her legs. Eomer noticed her discomfort, aware that the young woman was not accustomed to riding for hours at a time and called for a halt.

Freya watched once again as the men set up camp, smaller than the one they had done the previous night, with only a small fire and cooking supplies. Some of the men took off their saddles and proceeded to brush down their horses while others found a spot on the grass to rest their weary bodies. Eomer unbound her wrists, careful not to spook her. It hadn't gone unnoticed that she was easily scared and every time he touched her; he could feel her tremors despite how infinitesimal they had become prior to their first encounter.

He left her sitting on his bedroll as he took care of his horse, Firefoot. She watched, content, as he brushed the horses' body in long broad strokes. Eomer took his time, whispering to his horse from time to time in Rohirric. Freya could tell the two had a bond that surpassed species, they were friends, partner…horse lords.

"Come help," Eomer's rough voice was demanding as he motioned for Freya to join him. Quickly, she stood up from the bedroll and made her way towards the horse lord and his companion. Eomer handed her a roughly bristled brush. Freya stood there for a moment looking at it before moving towards the horse's mane. Her quick movement caused Firefoot to rear back on his hind legs, Freya stood rooted to her spot, the scene before her unfolding before she could fully comprehend what was happening.

An arm swiftly snaked around her waist, dragging her back with quick fierceness that left her breathless. Freya could hear Eomer from behind her, chastising Firefoot as if he were a child and not a horse. With an indignant snort Firefoot ceased his antics and walked towards his owner. Freya's breathing stuttered as she tried to push herself away from the advancing horse but Eomer's strong body held its place.

"Do not be afraid," He whispered in her ear causing her to shiver. He was still holding her tight around the waist and their closeness made her feel a brief feeling of safety. "Firefoot can be—childish when it comes to strangers, but he will not hurt you." Freya rolled her eyes.

"Besides the fact that he almost stomped me to death?" She asked still not wanting to approach the horse who now stood just a few feet from them waiting impatiently.

"If he wanted to truly hurt you, he would have," Eomer informed her, his voice still low. "Now, he has come to apologize." Freya swallowed hard.

"Wonderful," She bit her lip nervously as she looked at the horse. "You're forgiven." Freya turned to push past Eomer, but he merely turned her back around and gave he a small push towards his horse who had begun to saunter off towards greener grass. Eomer called his horse's name and crooked a finger in his direction not amused by how his horse was behaving. Freya could have sworn she saw the horse roll his eyes.

"You need to show him that you are not afraid," He told her with a small smirk. "Hold your hand out for him. Let him come to you." Freya did as she was told, tentatively lifting her arm straight in front of her with her palm facing out waiting for the tricky beast to come to her. Slowly, Firefoot trotted forward, stopping to sniff at her hand before pressing his head against her palm. Freya let out the breath she hadn't known she had been holding and slowly rubbed the giant beasts head. Firefoot nuzzled her palm and gave a small whiny of acceptance before sauntering away again towards the greener grass.

"See," Eomer pointed out as he picked up his tools. "That was not so bad, was it?" The corner of Freya's mouth tilted upwards in a small smile as she followed him back towards the camp. Soon they would once again be moving and there was little time for her to rest.

* * *

Night had settling in around them and after many more hours of riding they had finally settled for the evening. Eomer watched the sleeping girl as she tossed and turned on her bed roll, beads of sweat rolling down her face as she struggled to fight off whatever monster was consuming her dreams. Her strangled cries pierced the darkness as fear clawed through her. Sighing, Eomer went to sit at her side. He sat with his back against the log she had placed her bed roll next to for privacy and laid her head in his lap, stroking her hair, whispering the words his mother used to whisper to him as a child.

Freya stilled beneath his touch, as if sensing a warming presence. Her snow-white hair was soft beneath his fingertips and for a moment he was caught up in her beauty yet again. He had still not yet decided what her fate would be once they reached his home; there was never much love for foreigners in Rohan.

Eomer was lost in thought as Eothain approached, his movements hurried. Careful not to disturb his charge, Eomer rose to his feet. Eothain stopped to smirk at his commander as he stood but a warning glare from Eomer kept him silent.

"What is it?" Eomer asked brusquely, not having wanted to be disturbed.

"Scouts have spotted a pack of Orcs approaching Aldburg," Eothain informed him. "Two dozen or more will be there in 2 days-time. We can cut them off before they reach the settlement, but we will need to leave straight away." Eomer cursed beneath his breath as he looked back at Freya.

"They must be searching for her," He muttered, venom in his voice. "Gather the Rohirrim. We ride at dawn."

Freya watched as the men readied for battle; a sight that she had not seen them do before now. They looked as they did when they had scooped her up from the fields just inside of their borders. Spears and swords were sharpened, armor was applied, and horses were prepared. Now, in the light of the pre-dawn, Freya looked at the riders in awe. They stood erect on their horses with determined faces as they waited for their commander's orders

"Freya," Eomer approached her, spear in hand. "You will ride with Gama. With him you will be out of the fight and out of danger." Freya's breath quickened in fear as she thought about what was truly upon them. Noticing her the change in breathing, Eomer handed off his spear to Eothain and took her hands in his.

"I will let no harm come to you," He promised. "I do believe that you are not a spy of Saruman and I will ensure that he never has you under his spell again." Freya bit her lip wondering if Eomer could hear the stammering of her heart when he had touched her. She shook of the feeling of girlhood giddiness and nodded her head. Eomer smiled, letting her hands drop, and walked away towards Firefoot who danced impatiently

"Be safe," Freya whispered as Gama helped her onto his horse.


End file.
